Really Michael Phelps?! Really?! News flash homey, people know who you are, and they're watching. You should probably save the bong hits for when you're in trustworthy company. And at this point in your life, "trustworthy company" consist of yourself, and maybe...wait, on second thought, pretty much just yourself.
I admit, I'm no genius, but if I had just become the greatest Olympian of all time, I'm pretty sure I'd keep the Chong-ish antics inside my own home. Then again, nobody accused Michael Phelps of being a genius. This is the same Michael Phelps that thought it was a sweet idea to scoop up a bi-sexual porn actress as his leading lady following his legendary performance in Beijing. The same Michael Phelps who thought he'd put on a good show as host of SNL. Yeah, genius seems like a bit of a stretch.
His latest faux pas begs the question, who's babysitting this guy?! Doesn't this kid have a publicist? If he does, perhaps that person deserves to quickly join the ranks of the unemployed. Although, if that person is interested in keeping their job, I have a some humble advice. Phelps lost his sponsorship earlier today with the Kellogg Company, probably due to the fact that cereal isn't hugely popular with the pot community. If his publicist were smart, they would have immediately put in calls to such reefer-related companies such as Hot Pocket, Cheetos and Domino's. Now there's a couple companies who's main customer base could relate to Phelps.
Imagine yourself recently having paid a visit to the pipe. You gracefully waltz your way to the kitchen on a mission to fill your empty belly. You pop open the freezer to survey your options, and you notice a box with a svelte, 23 year-old Olympic champion gripping on to a Ham & Cheese Hot Pocket. You think to yourself - and remember, you just visited the pipe - "maybe if I eat enough Hot Pockets, I'll be an Olympic champion". Or perhaps it's you and your buddies, hanging out in your studio apartment playing Fall Out 3, stoned out of your minds, and starving. You think to yourself "what would Michael Phelps do", and suddenly you remember that commercial you saw earlier in the day. "He would totally order Domino's," the group shouts simultaneously. And frankly, at this point, it seems like he would.
It is here that I start to begin thinking that perhaps Mr. Phelps is indeed a genius. Today he was suspended from swimming for 3 months, which is the equivalent of giving the naughty kid a 3 day, out of school suspension. You just gave Phelps a mandatory 3 month vacation, less than 6 months post-Olympics. I'm sure he's devastated. The dude's obviously got things going on outside of the pool. The governing body also pulled his sponsorship for the same 3 month period. Um, I think he can probably afford it. If he's hard up for cash, he can just melt down one of the 265 gold medals he's got in that shoebox underneath his bed.
How does this all affect his image? Honestly, it probably makes him more of an American icon. I mean, what's more American than hanging out with your porn actress girlfriend, mouth over a bong, bumpin' uglies to the sweet sounds of Carrie Underwood? Alright, so there's no proof that Phelps listens to Carrie Underwood, yet, but you get my point. Who does America love more, Mark Spitz or Dave Chappelle?
My apologies Mike, perhaps it's me who's the dummy.
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